Awkward
by Augurey Song
Summary: Harry and Ginny are alone for the first time since the break up. Of course, awkwardness ensues!


**Hello people...I know it's been ages. But, anyhow. It seems I can only get one of these out a year. Anyway, if you notice two distinct writing styles, it's because I wrote the first bit about a year and a half ago. I apologise for not making it uniform, but I'm really too lazy. meh.**

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****Awkward**

Warm water hit her neck and back, and a hiss of air escaped her mouth in a sigh of relief. Her shoulder-length red hair that had been straightened for the day slowly sprang back into heavy curls as water seeped in, changing the shade of the strands from bright red to burgundy.

Showering was, by far, Ginny's favourite thing to do. She found that when the Wizard Wireless radio was blaring, and the warm water was cascading down her back, she could think like she never could elsewhere. Thoughts that had been eluding her throughout the day would suddenly present themselves as epiphanies. Amorphous ideas would squeeze into shape. It was only when she was scrubbing away the grime of a tough Quidditch practice, or rubbing off the ink stains from her fingers, her mind dwelling on the mundane, that she felt she understood her life the best.

This evening, Ginny was standing in her own bathtub in the Burrow, the pink ceramic winking playfully at her from between her toes. Her slightly chipped red nail varnish glimmered as water flowed over it, creating strange patterns of light.

Ginny thought of the scrumptious dinner her mother had made that night--one of many that had been made in honour of Bill and Fleur's wedding. She thought of her entire family digging eagerly into the casseroles. She thought of the two people at the table who weren't related to her by blood, but who were just as much a part of her family as Ron was. She remembered Hermione, sitting just a little too close to Ron, and Ron sending her affectionate looks.

And, she thought of Harry.

That one name evoked such a range of emotions in Ginny's sixteen-year-old heart. At once, she felt affection. Affection, not simply because they had once dated, but because he had been a constant in her life over the past seven years. Since the day she had seen him on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he had been important to her in one way or another. Memories flashed through her mind: spending days writing up rhymes for a singing Valentine; pouring feelings into Tom's diary; blushing whenever she saw him in the hallway; putting him back in his place when he deserved it. He had grown into one of the people she felt closest to.

She then felt anger swell up from behind her ribs and whip out to every part of her. Anger that he'd let himself slip away. Anger that he'd thought breaking up with her would keep her safe. Anger that he thought she wasn't capable of taking care of herself--even if it was against You-Know-Who.

She felt protective of him. Even though he had been forced to mature so much because of the responsibilities he had, to her he was just a child who needed to be comforted. He was too stubborn and proud to show his vulnerability to anyone, but Ginny saw straight through that façade.

But more than any of that, she felt love. She felt the kind of love someone feels for their best friend, their child, their parent, their lover. It was an intense love, and a bond that went beyond the physical. It was a fierce love that is only felt when you know a person will be with you for your entire life. Whether they ever got back together or not, she knew he would always be an important part of her life.

Hanging her turquoise loofa back on its hook, she turned the water off with pruned fingers. She wrapped a huge towel around her hair and pulled baggy pyjamas and one of Bill's old shirts onto her body. She stepped out of the steamy bathroom, and vigorously towel-dried her hair. Her hair hanging around her face and shoulders wildly, she padded down to the kitchen with the intention of pouring herself some cold lemonade and curling up with a trashy romance novel. Most of her family was still in the living room, talking about the wedding with excitement, but having heard quite enough about whether lilies or orchids would look prettier with the colour scheme of pale gold and cornflower blue, she decided to get her lemonade and return to her bedroom.

Lemonade and cheesecake in hand, Ginny retreated to her room, opening to the dog-eared page of _The Eyes of a Knight_.

_Clarissa looked into the deep pools of Brian's dark blue eyes, feeling herself getting lost within them._

_"You saved my life," she whispered to him, clinging to his wet shirt, and longing for him to put his arms that were like velvet steel around her. He said nothing, but leaned closer to her, his lips--_

Ginny heard a knock. She sighed, frustrated that she was interrupted at such a crucial part of the book: Clarissa's weak damsel-in-distress attitude was obviously being rewarded by the protagonist of the book--a male chauvinist with too broad a chest, and too arrogant a demeanour. Ginny wanted to tell Clarissa to learn how to swim, and Brian to get his sodding ego deflated.

"Come in."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry came into the room, flumping onto Ginny and Hermione's beds.

"_The Eyes of a Knight_?" Hermione asked, her eyebrow quirking in cynical amusement. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Let's not get started. The daughter of a count gets lost in the woods and comes across the castle of an exiled chauvinistic, abusive knight and falls in love with him. It's the kind of romance I always wanted to have with the love of my life, you know?" She said, sarcastically. The other three laughed. Tossing the book aside, Ginny picked up her plate of cheesecake and forked off a piece.

"Elegant, Ginny. Really elegant."

Ginny, her mouth too full to be able to retort, flashed Ron the finger, and continued savouring her blackberry cheesecake while Harry and Hermione sniggered. The conversation turned to Quidditch, as Ron, Harry, and Ginny discussed heatedly whether Puddlemere United or the Holyhead Harpies would win the match they were due to play the next day. Hermione, visibly bored, muttered something about rereading _Hogwarts, A History_ and left the room. Ron stopped talking mid-word, winked at them, and followed her out, leaving Harry and Ginny behind in a wake of awkwardness.

She turned to him, heart pounding.

This was the first time they had been alone since Dumbledore's funeral.

He was staring determinedly at a spot on her bedspread next to her foot.

She continued looking at him, not saying a word.

He looked up hesitantly.

Nervous laughter.

"Good they finally got together, eh?"

She nodded silently.

He cleared his throat.

"I-uh-I should go…"

She stared at him, face clear of expression.

"Ginny, say something!" he said, frustrated.

"Now you want me to say something? You weren't asking me what I thought when you broke up with me."

A shadow passed over his face.

"I'm doing this because I love you. If I don't die, would you let us pick up where we left off?" he asked, slightly desperate.

Ginny shrugged. The thought of him dying was unbearable. But she knew he wouldn't…he couldn't. Not when she cared about him so deeply.

Harry's face fell. He walked silently to the door, and opened it.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Before he could turn around completely, Ginny was kissing him fiercely and resolutely. He looked up, his heart pounding.

And then, she slammed the door in his face.

He walked away smiling, knowing that if he made it, Ginny would be there for him.

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**Review s'il vous plait!**


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